Chasing Time
by Lexie-H
Summary: Sirius Black can’t help but suspect that someone has played a cruel trick on him at birth. The biggest problem that he can isolate now is that he’s so far behind in everything. In life. And now, he's doomed. Doomed to chase time. RR please!
1. Part One

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or settings you recognise from Harry Potter. They belong to JK Rowling. I just play with her ideas!**

**_This one's for Paddy - an absolute darling, and always reliable to leave the biggest review on the page!_**

* * *

Sirius Black can't help but suspect that someone played a cruel trick on him at birth.  
The first ten years of his life seem as though they passed in a suppressed state of limbo. All of a sudden upon leaving Grimmauld Place, he discovered what living really was …  
And promptly decided he never wanted to return.  
The biggest problem that he can isolate, now, is that he's so far behind in everything; in life. And perhaps this is the cruelest joke of all, because now, he's doomed… doomed to chase time, always one step behind.

* * *

**The Boy**** (1971)  
**

It is a mistake. Everything is a mistake.  
He shouldn't have been born into his family. He shouldn't have been Sorted into his House.  
To be a Black is to be part of a legacy (and the rules and traditions and expectations that come with it), but not to be part of a loving, caring family. The Blacks do not love and care – or if they do, they don't show it.  
Sirius knows he'll never live up to this name; but even more so, he knows that deep down inside he isn't worthy of the Gryffindor name either. Better to be a family failure in Slytherin than a Gryffindor blood traitor.

"Mr. Black, the Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes. Did you hear me?"

The Professor's voice cuts through his thoughts, and Sirius turns his attention back to the formidable looking woman cloaked in emerald green.  
_What on earth is Gryffindor's Head of House doing wearing Salazar Slytherin's colours? Sirius thinks wildly._

He is out of his depth at this school.

"There's a first time for everything, Professor," he finds himself replying evenly, bolder than he feels.

He doesn't realize it, but Minerva McGonagall can read the panic in his eyes. His argument is flawed, of course. If there's a first time for everything, then surely, there's a first time for a Black to be Sorted into Gryffindor. The Professor regards him with great interest.

"Mr. Black, you will return to the Gryffindor Tower. You will wear your house colours with pride. You belong in my house, and I suspect it has nothing to do with the greatness of your family's lineage."

"_Toujours pur_," Sirius mutters under his breath. _Toujours pur_ is one big joke, now. He's lucky if his name isn't blasted off the family tapestry.

"You will remain in Gryffindor, and that is the end of the matter, Mr. Black. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes professor." Resignation.

Perhaps, Sirius wonders thoughtfully, it will make a difference if he proves just how unworthy of Gryffindor he really is?

The portrait of the Fat Lady eyes him warily as he gives the password. In the common room, talk stops as he makes his way towards the Boy's Staircase. He isn't alone, then; everyone seems to understand that he does not belong.  
Sirius sighs, feet dragging slowly up the stairs until he comes to the door labeled 'first years'. Deep down inside, he knows it won't be any different in Slytherin. There, he would be the freak who was Sorted into Gryffindor, although at least he'd have his cousins for company. Drawing a deep breath, he pushes the door open. The three boys inside pause. James Potter grins.

"I wondered where you'd gone, Black. I was just telling Remus here," he gestures to the pale, sandy-haired boy that Sirius vaguely recognizes from dinner, "that we should prank the Slytherins in honour of your Sorting. Brilliant, eh?"

Sirius shrugs, feigning indifference as he sinks down onto the woven red blanket covering his new bed.

"If you like, Potter," he replies, secretly pleased._  
That'll show them, for laughing at me!_ He remembers the horror on his cousin's face, imagines she's already written home to his parents.

The third boy, shorter and plumper than the others, beams, clapping his hands together eagerly.  
"Well I think it sounds like brilliant fun," he puts in earnestly.

The four boys regard each other conspirationally.  
Finally, Sirius rubs his hands together. "Right boys, let's plan some mischief."

Perhaps, he thinks, watching a fourth year Slytherin boy yelp – perhaps he's finally in the right place, after all.

* * *

**The Marauder**** (1974)  
**

Sirius has had a brother before, but nothing like this. Reg is always the go-between, the mediator between Sirius and his parents. These boys, though: these are his equals. They befriended him because they wanted to, not out of some twisted blood-loyalty. They're a strange bunch. James, the wealthy only child, bright but eternally bored; Remus, the shy, timid boy with a secret too big to handle alone; Peter, the apple of his mother's eye and yet nothing particularly special. Sirius is the rebellious one. He feels as though he has something to prove to the world. Not to these boys, though. They're brothers.

Together, the four boys lean forward expectantly, gazing at the blank, mottled brown piece of parchment.  
This is it.  
This is the summation of their years of countless pranks and Full Moon escapades.

Sirius licks his lips and clears his throat. "I think Moony should do it."

"But it was your idea!" Remus protests. "And you and Prongs did the spells!"

"So did you, and Wormy!"

James clears his throat, drawing his wand. "There's an easy way to settle this, gents. I-"

"How about we all do it?" Peter interrupts.

For a moment, James seems miffed, but as this seemed to have drawn Remus and Sirius' attention, he shrugs and smiles. "That's just what I was going to say, Pete."

Peter beams.

"Wands at the ready, then?"

Sirius draws his eagerly. Remus glances around the circle, his honey eyes serious, as the four put the tips of their wands to the parchment.

"One…. Two…."

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

The parchment is still. Nothing happens.  
James, Sirius and Remus exchange looks of disappointment, although they are far from defeated.

Peter's eyes, however, widen. "L – look!"

It is as though the parchment is blossoming. It unfolds and spreads across the table, little inky lines flowing across its surface like waves. The Marauders Map is alive. James lets out a whoop of delight, and Peter gives Sirius a high five. Remus sits quietly, hands clenched together in triumph, blissfully happy. Sirius gazes at his best friends, delighted.

He isn't a Black anymore, he decides suddenly. He's a Marauder, and these boys, these three best friends beyond his wildest dreams – they're his brothers, and all the family that Sirius will ever need.

* * *

**The Graduate**** (1978)  
**

He doesn't know what he's going to do about leaving Hogwarts. He has his flat and a trainee-ship as an Auror lined up with James at the Ministry, but beyond that… Hogwarts is his home, and the first place he's ever been truly happy. Sirius isn't so sure he's ready to leave that behind. Not yet.

He's not ready to go, even though he knows he must.

At least, he supposes, he is doing better than Remus. Remus is leaving for nothing. The Aurors won't take him, and neither will anybody else. He reckoned that, of course, without Dumbledore, who had pulled Remus aside quietly one day. Sirius still doesn't know what they spoke about, but he does know that Remus will tell them when he's ready. Remus learnt his lesson long ago about trying to keep secrets from his friends. The Marauders don't believe in secrets.

"Oi, Padfoot! You coming?"

It was James' idea to go for one last fly around the grounds. The others are in the air, now: James drifting carelessly, Remus perched more carefully and Peter … Sirius bites back a grin as Peter wobbles dangerously.

He kicks off, rising quickly to meet them. "Sorry, was just thinking."

James grins, turning effortlessly on his Nimbus 1000 to raise his eyebrows at Sirius. "Anything worth sharing?" he murmurs, interested.

Sirius shrugs. "Not really."

Those intelligent hazel eyes sparkle knowingly, but James seems to decide not to press the matter. Instead, he turns to the other two, smile bright.  
"Let's go, then, lads! Try to keep pace!"

And off he shoots, instantly so far ahead of them that it's impossible for Peter to even attempt to catch up. Some people are just not made for flying.  
Sirius exchanges a wry look with Remus. That is James – always so far ahead of them, in everything. So far ahead of them in life. Being James, he isn't the sort who has the patience to wait for them to catch up, either.

Sirius suspects he never will.

By the time James realizes they aren't behind him, he is a very tiny figure in the distance. He stops and turns, flying loop-the-loops in impatience. If anyone was ever born to fly, it is James.  
Sirius jerks his head towards the aero-acrobatic spectacle. Remus is also watching it, quietly amused, although Peter's eyes are focused ground-wards, and he seems to be calculating just how far he potentially has to fall.

"Don't look down, Pete. Just hold on tightly and if you do fall, I'm sure Prongs will be fast enough to catch you, mate."

Peter eyes Remus doubtfully, but Sirius rolls his eyes.

"Oh, grow some balls, Wormy. Ready, Moony?"

They set off more slowly, Sirius taking his time to examine the grounds for what he tells himself is the last time, although this is knowledge his mind refuses to process. He's not ready to grow up, not like the others. He's restless, yes, but that's more to do with his impatience to…  
Catch up.  
Beside him, Remus contemplates the sky curiously, completely unconcerned about his increasingly unclear future, and Peter is holding on for dear life.

* * *

**The Best Man**** (1979)  
**

James is laughing – his eyes are sparkling, his mouth beaming, his skin glowing. But those mischievous eyes, the ones that Sirius is so accustomed to seeing glancing around eagerly in his direction – those eyes are hers now.

He only has eyes for Lily today.

And Sirius wonders if this is what it's going to be like. For years, it has always been Lily-this, Lily-that with James, but now…. He and the Marauders feel like a third wheel to their marriage, instead of Lily being a fifth wheel to the Marauders.

And he loves Lily. He truly does. She's the sister he never had – the one who asks the thoughtful questions that fall beyond the comprehension of the boys; the one who offers a sympathetic ear with a mug of steaming tea; the one who smiles at him when he's feeling wretched, and reminds him it's all right to be human.  
She's the one who has made his best friend, his brother, the happiest, luckiest man alive (and dead).  
She's James' "the one."

And even though he's delighted for them both, because there's no two people Sirius Black loves and cherishes more (unless he counts Remus and Peter) … secretly, privately – so privately that he'll take it to his grave – he's devastated for himself. Because James is a married man, and in some ways, that spells the end of the Marauders. He doesn't need the brotherhood any more, even though he still loves and welcomes them into his home with open arms –  
_Family, always family_, he said.

But he doesn't need the Marauders anymore; not like Sirius does. James was the first person who saw Sirius for who he really was, and accepted him all the same. Now, James had Lily and he doesn't need Sirius, not like he used to.

Never again.

And Sirius knows this is just the beginning, because inevitably, Remus will marry too, and maybe even Peter. But not Sirius. He doesn't like his chances. He's not the sort of person who falls in love. Not like James, who today only has eyes for Lily.  
Really, Sirius can't blame him. She's radiant and the most beautiful woman in the world (and not just because she's made James so happy). If it was between him and Lily, Sirius knows he'd probably choose her, too. Not that it's a matter of choice, but more simply…. Fact.  
And the fact of the matter is, he's never seen James happier, which is all that really matters. So Sirius will enjoy their wedding, and his role as best man, because he knows that no matter what he does, he'll always be the best man, never the groom. He isn't husband material – not like James and Remus and maybe even Peter.

Sirius drains his glass of champagne, setting it gently down onto the table. Peter sits beside him, obviously bored and putting on a very poor show of hiding it. Remus is on the dance floor with Sirius' little cousin: Remus, always the gentleman, he appears greatly entertained by the prospect of condescending to dance with a purple-haired six year old.

James and Lily are, of course, in each others' arms. James isn't really much of a dancer, but Lily doesn't particularly seem to care. He's already swept her off her feet.

Sirius draws his chair back and stands with a sigh. He fixes a grin, a telltale 'I'm-clearly-up-to-no-good-and-possibly-thinking-lewd-thoughts-about-your-wife, Prongs' look, and sets off to borrow the bride for a waltz.

* * *

**Note: This is Part One of a three-shot. The second installment will be posted when I find the time to write it. As this is obviously a work in progress, I'd love to hear your thoughts. I hope you all enjoyed it!**

**Thank you for reading,**

**Lexie**


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or settings you recognise from Harry Potter. They belong to JK Rowling. I just play with her ideas!**

**_For Paddy...  
_**

* * *

All of a sudden, as barely an adult, Sirius finds that time seems to catch up with him; but such things were not meant to occur gently, and instead, it is as though a full-scale collision has occurred. The roles are reversed, and suddenly, there is nothing more in the world that Sirius wants than to go back to his past, to his childhood, and to relive it all over again, because those brief Hogwarts years, he now knows, were his happiest, and Sirius is beginning to understand that he will never be quite so happy again.  
And he's still doomed, doomed to chase time, but this time, it's running away from him in the opposite direction. It's as though the world developed a stutter after James married Lily, and now everything is familiar but not quite so easy to understand. All he wants is to go backwards, back to when nothing else mattered but those four little boys and winning Evans's heart for James, because now, he's been carried too far ahead, too fast.

* * *

**The One Who's Left Behind (Again)**** (1981)  
**

He grasps James' limp hand in his, and wonders if this is how it's going to be from now on; whether he's doomed to spend his life chasing times that will never exist.

He's free of responsibilities. Before, there was Harry to think of, Harry to plan for; but as the sound of his motorbike dies in the air, as Hagrid negotiates the skies with ease, his baby godson nestled safely in his great arms... Sirius knows he has only one responsibility, and that is to make sure his best friend - his brother - and Lily, the sister he never had, have not died in vain.

Something chokes at his throat and clouds his vision. Sirius can't be crying; and he isn't, simply because Sirius Black doesn't cry.  
"I won't forget you, Prongs, I won't, I'll take care of Harry, and I'll do everything I can to make sure he's happy and that he remembers you and Lily and …"  
Promises tumble into one another in their haste to escape, and Sirius feels like he's taken a Bludger to the head because he can't quite accept that this has really happened, is really happening.

Somewhere Lily must be lying there too, eyes frozen, skin cold, and he can't bring himself to see her. And yet - for James, always for James - he stands and makes his way up the stairs, feet sinking with dread at each step…

The wall is blown off, and the crisp night air filters into Harry's nursery. Sirius shivers, because there she is, beautiful hair fanned over her face, crumpled on the floor in front of Harry's cot. It's sick, but he can't help but feel a thrill of amazement that somehow, she saved him….  
Lily is a dead weight in his arms, and yet he gathers her up, because to levitate her seems impersonal. His chest swells with warmth and his stomach clutches with pain and he wants to vomit, and it's all he can do not to, but his body settles as he lays her down beside her husband. He slides their eyes shut, and but for their location, they could be sleeping….

Sirius sits there for a long time, unable to tear his eyes away from two of the people he loves most in the world. He remembers their smiling, laughing faces, the feel of James' arm around his shoulders, of the soft brush of Lily's lips against his cheek... It's funny that the hallway doesn't look any different for their deaths. There are unopened letters on the hallway table.

He kisses them both, gently, lingeringly, on the forehead, and tells them one more time that he loves them, and then, he stands and leaves, and as he closes the door quietly, it's all he can do not to scream.

Nothing else matters now except the slimy, wretched traitor Peter (in hindsight, his animagus was an omen). Two of the most important people in the world have ceased to exist in his life; and the one he had always considered to be of least importance has transformed into his primary purpose of living.  
The irony is not lost on Sirius Black at all.  
He has nothing left but Peter Pettigrew and an obsessive compulsion for vengeance.

If Sirius had stopped for a moment to think, he would have realized that this was not the way James would have wanted things; that he would have been appalled at Sirius' thirst for blood-payment, his association of revenge with justice.

Fortunately for Sirius (unfortunately, perhaps, for the memory of James) he doesn't stop to think, though. The time for thinking is either long passed or yet to arrive. All Sirius knows is that the present, the now, the current time which James and Lily are no longer actively a part of, is a time for action.  
And if it's the last thing Sirius does, he swears he will find Peter Pettigrew and he will avenge his family, and he will do it for the memory of Lily and James and for the future of their son.

Like all the best of Sirius Black's plans, it backfires.  
Most unfortunately for Sirius, it backfires in a street full of Muggles.

* * *

**The Convict**** (1986)  
**

He realizes this later, in Azkaban, where he is considered certifiably insane (although personally, it's the most sense he's made in years): he always knew family would be his downfall.

For many years he had misdirected this suspicion toward the Blacks, to his heritage and the family roots he cannot escape. Funny, then, that it is the family of his heart, the Marauders, his brothers in all but blood, who have become his undoing.  
Now, Sirius finds himself back with the Blacks, so to speak. He need only peer through the grimy bars of his cell door to see - and not even that to hear - his beloved cousin, who languishes not two cells down and adjacent to him.

The wind howls around the lonely walls, its shrieks and whistles blending with those of the prisoners within. For Sirius, day blends with night, the thunderous skies unrelenting.

Innocence is his one comfort, now. He listens as dear Bella screams and cackles in her sleep; watches Rudolphus in the cell opposite him, rocking back-and-forth, back-and-forth, muttering to himself. Innocence, and the bittersweet knowledge that for James and Remus and Lily and Harry (but not Peter, never again Peter) he would do everything again, just the same, if he had to.  
And if the thing to drive him mad is love, then all the better, because misery wants for company but at least it means he's not keeping company with all the miserable lunatics in this forsaken place.

Some nights, from the small grate that serves as a window, Sirius can see the lightening searing across the endless black skies, occasionally sending a crackling limb down to pierce the tumbling, white capped waves of the North Sea. It is these times, as he studies the merciless waves, ship killers, that Sirius feels most alone, and it's a physical pain, one that constricts his lungs and makes it even more difficult to breath.

It was a mistake, not to tell him. He knows that much now, and wonders vaguely where Remus Lupin is. If they had have told him, had have shared the crucial secret, not only would Sirius not be sitting in his cell right now, they could have taken Harry and raised him together, and Harry could have grown up happily and with a loving memory of his parents, because inevitably, whatever the reality of his life was like, the few choice words James had ever spoken about his brother- and sister-in-law did not paint a pleasant prospect for their nephew.

When it all becomes too much, Sirius relies on the only magic he can perform without his wand, and that is to transform, and to relive the glory days of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, and it becomes as though no time has passed at all.  
As Padfoot, life seems paused in motion, and while he is trapped in the same, tiny cage with the same, with the same, sparse rations – not enough to keep him alive, and yet just enough to stop him dying – at least now and then, there are new smells to explore. The Dementors get excited when a death is approaching, for example, and both the smell of the death and the Dementors themselves provide something new and curious, at least for a few days. Besides, the Dementors don't bother him as much, as Padfoot.

Within this new, strange sense of sanity, Sirius and Padfoot make a deal with one another, and that deal is to escape at the first opportunity which presents itself, because even if life leads to him passing the rest of his days in dog form, Sirius knows that it will be better than this, where he is forced to sit and watch and wait for time to consume him, no longer able to even chase.

* * *

**The Escapee**** (1993)  
**

The coldness is everything – it bites through his furry flesh, it screams through his veins, it squeezes at his heart and constricts his lungs. At these times, it is all Sirius can do not to howl in pain, but it is this that brings to him a newfound determination to survive, for Sirius has never felt so alive before.  
After so many years in That Place, night ran into day ran into night, and time lost all meaning. Now that he is out, though…

Sirius revels in the warmth of the sun on his salty back, the soft luscious sheen of grass and foliage to his shaggy body and thickened paws.  
It had been so long, so very long, that Sirius was surprised he could recall such things, and yet there it had been: his abilities to speak, to see, to read the day that the Minister visited. And there, on the front page of the Minister's newspaper - Wormtail perched on a boy's shoulder, in Egypt of all places! And the boy, the boy was returning to Hogwarts, presumably with Peter perched similarly on his shoulder…

For twelve long years, Sirius Black's life had lacked purpose, but now, there it was, handed to him on a platter of ink and parchment. The Daily Prophet had never before held so much meaning.

_ He's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts he's at Hogwarts…_

That simple truth haunts his waking hours, and quite probably his dreams, too.

Now, Sirius raises his nose to the wind and snuffs, satisfied, before turning south. He will have a few days more of frisking in the mountains and valleys before he hits settlement, and he intends to make the most of this freedom.

At times, he is tempted to steal a wand, but they must have realized he is gone, by now, and to steal a wand would be to raise suspicion. Sirius knows he must act swiftly and stealthily: he must find Wormtail, and he must take him, quickly, and he will tear him from limb to limb, and Peter will experience the pain that he caused to Sirius and Harry, the day he sent Voldemort to kill James and Lily…. And then, when Sirius is sure Wormtail is unable to transform back into Peter, he will abandon him to die, slowly and painfully, and if there is any justice in the world, Wormtail will last a good twelve years, so he can feel the wrath and horror equivalent of Azkaban, too. To kill him outright would be merciful, and Wormtail deserves no mercy.

Sirius knows, of course, that his plan will never work, because even if he isn't in human form, it's impossible to expect that a large black dog will go unnoticed running through the school, but it's nice to dream…

It takes him a week and more to reach Surrey. He has hungered after Wormtail for so long, so long, but first he needs to see his godson, because even to Sirius' twisted mind, love is more important than revenge, and before Sirius potentially saves Harry's life, he needs to make sure he's all right. To see him, to know whether he resembles James and Lily – he thinks it will be enough, and then, he will go and do what he must; but his one glance does not disappoint, for Harry is the very image of James at thirteen, and Sirius finds that one glance is no longer enough.

* * *

**The Monster**** (1994)  
**

The fear and anger in Harry's eyes shocks him. He doesn't know who the other children are, only that they seem to be his friends, and good friends, too, because they're putting their lives on the line for him in much the same way as James and Sirius had always stepped forward for Remus.

"Going to kill me, Harry?"

He's always said that family would be the death of him, after all – and yet, strangely, he finds himself lagging behind again, and yearning once more to catch up, and perhaps if Harry…. Perhaps he'll see James and Lily again…?  
And this thought gives him courage, and really, it's all his stupid fault that Peter was the one trusted with Secret Keeping, and so therefore he's just as guilty of killing them. He's never thought about it before, and yet, there it is: Harry's truth is a gift and a burden, and all of a sudden, he wants it all to be over, so he can see James again and make sure all is forgiven.

Now, to be staring into James' face, and to see the hate crackling through Lily's eyes again, it feels as though he's gone back in time, as though he's become stuck in the past.  
The arrival of Remus Lupin seems to cement this theory for him, but the name Moony addresses is Harry's, and Remus himself looks older, sadder, more worn….

"Where is he, Sirius?"

Sirius Black never expected to find an ally, and yet, here he was; and it has always been said that the oldest of friends were always the truest (not that Sirius had anyone else left, anyway).

Sirius rolls those words, his name, around in his mind for a moment. Does he want to pull Remus into this mess? But of course, Remus is already embroiled, deep as his graying, scarred head, and a little help has never sounded so attractive, as appealing, as it does now. It is nice, he thinks, not to feel so alone.  
Sirius says nothing. Instead, he raises a finger and watches as the pieces fall into place.

A rush of guilt consumes him – _how had they ever suspected Remus of betraying them, how, when Peter had always been the sickeningly obvious candidate…?_  
But nothing seems to matter but Remus leaning forward and pulling him to his feet and embracing him.  
Sirius finds the years melting away, once more…  
And he feels just a little more human for it. Perhaps everything will work out, after all.

* * *

**The Godfather**** (1995)  
**

The last place on earth that Sirius Black expected to find himself was a cave in the mountains, and yet… The things he does for family, he thinks ruefully, eyeing the hungry hippogriff tethered in the corner thoughtfully. _He will need to go out, tonight, and find some more rats…_  
The letters increased in frequency as Harry became increasingly anxious, and there was nothing Sirius could do for him but return, and hide himself close by because proximity has always been a comfort and it was the least he can do for the boy who saved his life.

His godson.

He is still adjusting to adulthood, in some ways. He and Remus had taken a trip south for several months, Sirius disguised as the trusty canine companion (of course). It had been as though they were both living someone else's life, in those long, hot months of relaxation, and it had been a relief, too, because without James, neither of them felt like they were being left behind anymore.  
And yet they had not been relaxed, not entirely, because Peter was out there somewhere, and there was an ominous sort of expectation surrounding his disappearance.

It is only a matter of time, now…

The old newspapers he is collecting seem only to confirm his suspicions: something is up, and from where Sirius is sitting, on the cold, dirty and slightly damp floor of his cave, it smells pretty nasty.  
Sometimes, it is as though his thoughts of Harry have melded with his memories of James, and occasionally, for a split second, they become one and the same, and Sirius accidentally addresses the letter to James instead of Harry, and then he has to start all over again, and he silently chastises himself for chasing the past.

He wanted to go to the Second Task, but Dumbledore had warned him away, because he is still a wanted man, and the last thing Harry needs to worry about is Sirius being caught. It had taken a lot, to restrain himself, but Remus had come instead to the cave, and they had kept vigil together until Dumbledore's letter of reassurance had arrived, and for now, for Sirius, this has to be enough.  
For now Sirius finds himself not trapped in a cell, but a cave, and once more the thick stone walls close in upon him while outside, time keeps moving, and once again, there's nothing he can do to make it stop.

* * *

**Note: I know I said I intended for this to be a two-shot. I'm as surprised as you to announce that there's one more installment to come, but there it is: two chapters just aren't enough room!  
I know, too, that this has taken me a while, but the requirements of writing pure canon require constant revision and reference to the books, so there you go. **

**I do hope you've enjoyed the second installment, I'd love to hear your thoughts as always, and (since t'is the season to be jolly, and all that sort of thing) - Merry Christmas! (and/or any other applicable religious holiday!) **

**Lexie**


	3. Part Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or settings you recognise from Harry Potter. They belong to JK Rowling. I just play with her ideas!**

_**For Paddy;  
Thanks to Cuba, who helped me get this 'right';  
And with thanks you my readers too, for your patience when life got in the way!**_

* * *

Being back in Grimmauld Place, it seems as if time itself has frozen now, and the outside world has ceased to exist. For perhaps the fourth time in his life, he finds himself trapped, but this time, ominously, he understands there is to be no escape. 

Time flees from the house even as he himself did, so many years before, but what seemed like a lifetime then is more like a single moment, now. Instead of time, Sirius is left to chase the present; because while the world keeps revolving outside, it is all he can do to sit and wait for news. 

Sirius Black has never been known for his patience.

* * *

**The Prisoner (November 1995)**

Between the portrait of his mother and Kreacher muttering outside his bedroom door at night, Sirius is beginning to suspect the last nineteen years haven't actually happened; that he didn't run away from home at sixteen, that the summers spent with the Potters were a figment of his imagination; that James and Lily's death, and his sojourn at Azkaban were all just a very bad dream. In fact, with Harry and Remus in the house, it sometimes feels as though they're all together again….  
But when Harry meets his gaze with James' face and Lily's eyes, reality comes rushing back, and he remembers what has been done, what has been past; and also, what is at stake.  
Instinctively, as a victim of the Ministry himself, he knows the Dementors and Fudge's attempt to expel Harry are only the beginning. 

"But why did you…?"  
"Leave?" he suggests softly, staring at the old tapestry and wondering whether Harry realizes how many times he's had this conversation already; whether he understands he's repeating his father's very words?  
Just like before, Sirius offers a long, well rehearsed explanation, but the simple truth (as always) evades mention:  
_I left while I still could_…

And even though Dumbledore manages to sort things out, even though he sends Harry back off to the safety of Hogwarts, Sirius finds he has nothing better to do than wander the halls of Grimmauld Place alone, because it's as though he's lost Harry all over again.

He watches the Order come and go, waits impatiently for Harry's next letter, spends many nights in front of the fire, watching Remus and Tonks playing chess. Snape isn't making matters any easier, swanning in and out of the house under the mantle of a hero, his sneers a constant reminder that cleaning Headquarters is no substitute to work as a field agent. And deep down, Sirius knows that it isn't just his confinement; it's Snape too; because just like the crows' feet at the corners of Remus' eyes, and the fact that James' son has almost overtaken him in age, Snape is a constant reminder that they've all grown older, that time has slipped away while he wasn't looking; that this isn't just Sirius' personal waking nightmare. Although really, Snape would probably _prefer_ he was part of any sort of waking nightmare that caused Sirius torment…

Instead, it is the photograph on his bedroom wall that haunts his nights – their four smiling faces, their carefree laughter. Who would have known only a few years later, one of them would be dead, another imprisoned, a third in hiding? He should have killed Peter when he'd had the chance; the slimy little rodent has robbed him of his freedom twice over now.  
"You know, of course, that Lord Voldemort will have been informed of your animagus by now, Sirius," Dumbledore tells him in private after an Order meeting, weariness embodied in every intonation as he imposes what effectively becomes house-arrest.  
It startles Sirius to see his former headmaster so frail, so…. _Old_. It startles him so much that he forgets to protest; forgets to point out that Padfoot can't be the only large black dog in London; certainly not in the whole of Britain.

Long after his Dumbledore slips from the room, long after the candles have burnt out, Sirius sits and contemplates his lost freedom, and the fading twinkle in the old wizard's eyes. 

What he dreads more than anything else is an empty house. When everyone else is gone, he retreats to the attic, where Buckbeak provides, at the very least, reliable companionship. Even if the hippogriff makes poor conversation, Sirius has long suspected that his luminous eyes veil deep intelligence and inherent understanding.  
_You're not the only one trapped by circumstance_, Buckbeak's gaze reminds him.  
_You're not the only one standing still as the world revolves around you_.  
You're not the only one…

* * *

**Cupid**** (February 1996)**

It's funny how everything happens, all at once, Sirius marvels: just as he finds family, and friendship, and happiness again, he can feel it slipping away – as though time can't bear to give him the satisfaction, as though it's necessary for loss to permeate his already miserable life. 

Even the presence of his almost constant companions – his best friend and his cousin – is wrought with pain, because intangibly, they remind him of a past he can never return to.  
And he's happy for them both, because even if he's trapped in a misery of time, Remus has forged ahead. _He_ lives for the promise of the future.

And no one could say he hadn't seen it coming. After all, while he wasn't husband material, Remus certainly was. He wishes that, just this once, he can interfere, that he can knock some sense into his old friend (because while he certainly can't give Harry a good strong dose of reality – not when he doesn't exist in Harry's reality anymore – he's fairly sure their shared past would entitle him to interrupt Remus') he won't, because he's just the outsider, now. 

Instead, he settles against the old, wooden architrave, squeezes his eyes closed (because watching the kitchen door isn't half as appealing as imagining what's unfolding _behind_ it) and listens…

"But _why_?"

"I danced with you, when you were six."

He imagines that she is looking away, blinking, momentarily stalled, because that sort of information is almost incomprehensible to _him_, and he can remember it too. 

"You _what_?"

Remus would be smiling tenderly now, perhaps touching her cheek. His face is worn with loneliness and pain, but Sirius hopes that nothing – _nothing_ – will ever erase the kindness from Remus' eyes.

"I danced with you at Lily and James' wedding. You were a six year old with purple hair."

The Tonks in his mind's eye frowns now, deep in thought. 

"I can't remember," she replies honestly, and her tone is hushed, disappointed. "All I can remember is dancing with one of the handsome groomsmen…"

Sirius grinned, listening to the silent revelation. It is deafening to his ears, and brilliant too. He imagines them both grinning, eyeing each other shyly. 

"Oh. It was you…" she murmurs wonderingly.

"It was me," he agrees.

Sirius sighs inaudibly, because hearing them speak their lover's nonsense reminds him of James and Lily all over again (although admittedly, last time it was James who spoke the nonsense and Lily who laughingly silenced him).  
And thinking of James and Lily inevitably reminds him of his naïve assumption, all those years ago, that even if James (and probably Remus) married, he'd probably always have Peter, but even this seems like a cruel jibe, now. 

Now, he is losing Remus all over again, but this time, Remus isn't the one falling away.  
Remus isn't the one who finds himself stalled in time, trapped within the slowly decaying walls of his ancestral family home; trapped in the place he had escaped from at sixteen…

No – that is Sirius' part to play in the tragedy of his life. It is all his.

And so, in the spirit of isolating himself further from the world, Sirius makes excuses to invite them both over for dinner, always remembering (at the last minute, just as they're sitting down to dinner) that Buckbeak hasn't been fed. He takes his time on the stairs, makes his bow slowly, watches Buckbeak devour every last mouthful, before returning to the kitchen, to their empty plates and embarrassed glances. 

Even if he's trapped himself, at least he can give them an opportunity to live.

* * *

**The Hero (May 1996)**

Finally, he is given his chance for redemption. He's leaving; he's going to save the world. For the first time in his life, Sirius is determined to be the hero in his own story. 

It's part of the Marauder's legacy to be the hero. 

Remus watches him guardedly from across the kitchen as Kingsley speaks. The auror's voice is soft and hurried.  
_We haven't much time_.  
Sirius can read the doubt in his old friend's eyes; can preempt their conversation before he even initiates it. 

"I'm going, Moony," he tells him firmly, cutting directly across Kingsley's speech. They turn to stare at him, all of them, even Tonks (although at least _she_ doesn't look surprised). Kingsley coughs, shakes his head. He's been feeding the Ministry false information for _years_ about Sirius' location, and they both know that for him to be seen at the Ministry itself would be disastrous for them both… 

But there's more at stake than just Sirius' freedom and Kingsley's job, and as they hold each other's gaze for a moment, Sirius is surprised to see understanding. 

"He goes," Kingsley agrees suddenly, his voice characteristically calm, thoughtful. 

And Sirius knows Kingsley knows that he'll never forgive himself if something happens to Harry; he understands that he still feels responsible for Lily and James, that he regrets the day he ever suggested they switch Secret Keepers. Sirius doesn't have time to ask Kingsley _how_ he knows; but then, he supposes it is only fair, as Kingsley has made, or pretended to make, his life a study for the past few years. 

It's a relief that someone trusts his judgment again, so completely – and it is this alone that makes Sirius doubt, because the last person in this world to trust him so completely was _James_, and look where that had got him. 

He shakes the thought aside quickly. There's no time to worry about these larger repercussions now; that can wait until Harry's safe. After all, he expects he'll be stuck in Grimmauld Place for quite some time after the escapade, especially if he's recognized, and it strikes him as comforting, that he'll have something to think about. 

Remus studies Sirius openly, his face unreadable. Now that Kingsley has agreed, now that Remus can see the pure, unadulterated determination on Sirius' face to fight for his godchild, the werewolf sighs. He nods, just once, but once is all Sirius needs to get the message. He almost kicks himself, for forgetting, because Remus has as much at stake as he does. Sirius isn't the only one James is relying on; and he can see in his eyes that even though he's got Tonks now, Remus is scared of being alone, again. 

'_Do it if you must.' _Remus' eyes are resigned.

'_Trust me.'_

* * *

**The Lost and the Found (After…)**

He's waited so long to live this life that is his. And now he's found it, it still seems intangible. 

"More, Sirius?"

Lily smiles, piling food onto his plate without waiting for a reply.  
Across the table, James is still unable to wipe the grin off his face long enough to take a mouthful himself. 

"It's just …. _So good_ to see you, Paddy." He shakes his head, at a loss for words. "I just… can't believe you're really here."

Lily resumes her seat, rolls her eyes. "He's not usually like this, you know," she grins, leaning forward. "But it's good to have you back."

Sirius meets her eyes; it's a shock to see them in her face, where they belong, because for a minute he expects to see Harry instead. He nods, once. 

"It's good to be back."

He wonders how they all remember him, now; Remus, and Tonks, and the Weasleys; Harry.  
He's certainly not who _James_ remembers, the Best Man, but that hardly seems to matter, now. 

Nothing seems to matter, now, except that he is where he is.

Lily and James haven't changed a day, and slowly, Sirius begins to forget his unhappiness, his loss, his loneliness.  
He hopes his death hasn't been entirely wasted. By process of deduction, he knows they're all safe; none of them followed him here; but their faces hang suspended in his mind's eye, and he knows he has unfinished business with them all.  
He hopes they'll remember him well; as the Marauder, the Best Man, the Godfather; the Hero. Everything else fades into obscurity when he thinks about his past. In the end, he's decided that all that matters are his moments of happiness. 

He's determined not to chase time anymore; not to live in the past, or the future. For now, he's content to exist in the present; and perhaps, that's the way things should be. 

_**Fin**_

* * *

**Note: First of all, I'm SO sorry for the time delay; I really have no excuses, except life has been busy, and I've done my best. Nevertheless, I hope you all forgive me!**

**Second of all – what did you think? We all know I'm a perfectionist, so feedback is deeply appreciated, especially suggestions for improvement! What do you think – did I get it right?**

**Third – this is the last installment, so a big thanks goes out to everyone who stuck with the story! **

**And, finally – I wish you all a very happy Easter, full of chocolate and love (whatever your religion may be!)**

**Lexie**


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